Todos os capítulos de SCANDAL IN HIS BED : Capítulo 61 - Capítulo 70

The conference room on the seventh floor buzzed with low conversation, the soft clink of coffee cups, and the rustle of papers being shuffled into neat folders. Diane adjusted the strap of her tote bag on her shoulder as she stepped inside, her eyes scanning the room instinctively—not looking for anyone in particular, just grounding herself.Work has become her refuge lately. Predictable. Structured. Safe.She found an empty seat near the middle row and sat, exhaling softly as she pulled out her notebook. The glass walls reflected the grey London afternoon, rain streaking gently down the windows like thin, nervous lines.“Excuse me.”The voice was familiar.Too familiar.Diane stiffened before she even turned.When she did, her breath caught.Chloe stood there, impeccably dressed as always—cream blazer, soft curls falling effortlessly over her shoulders. Her smile was wide, practiced, almost theatrical. And beside her—Damian.Her chest tightened.He hadn’t changed much. Same sharp ja

The courtroom was quiet in the way places of obligation always were—sterile, indifferent, unmoved by the weight of human decisions. The walls were cream-colored, the air faintly stale, and the ceiling fan rotated lazily as though it had no enthusiasm for what was about to take place. Roy sat stiffly beside Karen. His suit was perfectly tailored, dark and expensive, but it hung on him like a borrowed skin. His shoulders were tense, his jaw clenched, eyes fixed straight ahead as though looking anywhere else might undo the resolve that had been forced upon him. He hadn’t slept well in days. The nights had been long, filled with thoughts he refused to complete and memories he wished would stop resurfacing. Karen, on the other hand, looked… composed. She wore a simple cream dress—not white, not bridal, just respectable. Her makeup was soft, almost deliberate in its modesty, and her lips curved into a small smile that never quite reached her eyes. She sat upright, hands folded neatly

Morning crept into the house quietly, the kind of quiet that felt deliberate, almost judgmental. Pale sunlight filtered through the sheer kitchen curtains, resting softly on the marble countertop, but nothing about the house felt warm.Karen was already awake.She stood at the kitchen island in one of Roy’s oversized shirts, sleeves rolled up clumsily, hair pulled into a loose ponytail that kept slipping. A frying pan sat on the stove, eggs half-scrambled, toast browning in the toaster. She kept glancing toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms, anticipation written all over her face.Today was different, she told herself.Today, she was a wife.Footsteps finally echoed down the hall.Roy appeared at the kitchen entrance, freshly showered, already dressed halfway for work—white shirt crisp, sleeves not yet buttoned, his phone in hand. His expression was neutral, distant, as though the walls themselves were strangers to him.Karen’s face lit up immediately.“Oh—good morning,” she sa

Diane didn’t realize when it happened—when the heaviness in her chest loosened, just a little.She noticed it later, much later, when she was alone in her apartment and found herself smiling at nothing in particular.Ethan.The name slipped into her thoughts so easily now, without the usual sting of guilt or fear. It startled her at first. For weeks—months even—every time she felt a flicker of warmth toward someone else, she’d shut it down immediately. As if her heart were still on probation. As if loving again was a crime she wasn’t sure she was allowed to commit.But tonight felt different.Earlier that day, Ethan had dropped her home after work.She remembered standing at the entrance of her building, her bag slung over her shoulder, the late afternoon breeze lifting strands of her hair as she thanked him.“You didn’t have to,” she’d said, meaning the ride, meaning his constant gentleness.“I wanted to,” he replied easily, one hand resting on the steering wheel. “Besides, I told yo

The Walker residence was unusually alive that afternoon.There was music playing softly from somewhere—old love songs Mrs. Walker adored—and the house buzzed with voices overlapping each other, laughter70 spilling into corridors, and the occasional clatter of fabric boxes being dragged across the tiled floor.Maya stood in the middle of the living room, hands planted on her waist, staring at three different garment bags hanging from the curtain rail like silent judges.“I feel like they’re all judging me,” she muttered.Diane, seated on the couch with a cup of tea balanced on her knee, laughed. “They’re wedding dresses, Maya. That’s literally their job.”Maya turned. “You’re enjoying this too much.”“How can I not?” Diane shrugged. “My sister is getting married. This is prime entertainment.”Before Maya could reply, Mrs. Walker emerged from the hallway, her reading glasses perched on her nose, phone in hand, and a look of sheer excitement etched across her face.“Maya!” she called, pr